


love is patient

by nefertiti



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Combeferre is perfect, Grantaire Has Issues, Hogwarts, M/M, did it work, i tried for long rambly grantaire, probably not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:38:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefertiti/pseuds/nefertiti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ignorance is bliss my dear Combeferre." </p><p>"No it’s not. It’s just easier."</p>
            </blockquote>





	love is patient

“Grantaire!" Combeferre called out as he saw a familiar mop of messy black hair about to enter a shop.  

 

“Combeferre?" The sixth year Hufflepuff’s eyes were sad as he looked at Combeferre. 

 

"I didn’t think much people would be out here at this time." Most students were in fact heading back to the castle. 

 

"Ah well, I was just…" Grantaire glanced around himself as if suddenly aware of his surroundings. "…wandering about. And you? Since when do you deign it fit to mingle with mere mortals when exams are on." Grantaire tried for a smile this time. 

 

Combeferre huffed a breath and returned his smile. “I plan to stay at school for the holidays, so I need to buy my sister and my parents their gifts. It was about time for a Hogsmeade trip, so I figured why not do my shopping now?” 

 

"You always were the meticulous one. Ravenclaw through and through."  

 

Combeferre shrugged as if to say “Well, you know me." 

 

Combeferre had known Grantaire for four years. They’d been part of the same group since Enjolras started an organization to fight against the stigmatization of werewolves, veela, house elves and other magical creatures in their society. They’d met at the first meeting, where Grantaire thought it fit to sneak in butterbeer and for some reason go into a long and eloquent speech about the laziness of the wizarding world, equating sloth to corruption, which earned him many friends. The fact that his speech was actually more depressing than enlightening didn’t seem to concern too many people. Grantaire and all of his other close friends bonded over being second generation English citizens.  Him, Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Jehan, Bahorel, Bossuet, Joly and Grantaire all had parents who were Beauxbatons students. Feuilly was also French according to his birth certificate, but he was muggle born. They each had different groups of friends before. They were all in different years and there were more than one of them in each house, so they’d never had the opportunity for friendship before. But when they were all in the same room they had struck up a kinship like nothing they’d ever experienced before. They were a family. They fondly called themselves Les Amis de l’ABC, or friends of the oppressed when they’d become aware of their French origins. They had formed a group within their group. A clique within their club. 

 

An irritated cough let them know that they were still standing in the doorway of what Combeferre now realized to be Honeyduke’s. 

 

Grantaire moved out of the way and nodded in silent apology 

 

"Why aren’t you going home then?"  

 

"I‘m too busy what with co-chairing meetings, and then there’s Charms Club, and we’re turning our Transfiguration Homework Meetings into a Transfiguration Study Group which we’re going to run through all the holidays, and then there’s also…" 

 

"Merlin’s beard do you ever sleep? Do you even know what sleep is? Or is this you sleepwalking right now? You’re awfully alert for someone who’s unconscious." 

 

"You know you’re not as funny as you think you are." Combeferre replied as they walked down the snowy street. 

 

"I’m hilarious." 

 

"Yes, well all the same. I did come here with a purpose.” 

 

"Oh yes. Of course. Do you want me to join you?" 

 

"If you can." 

 

"We should go to Adeline’s first though. I’m starved." 

 

"I don’t think I kn-" 

 

"Ah you straight shooting youngsters." Grantaire smirked. “How can you even call yourself French. You’re almost as bad as Enjolras." Grantaire’s smile took on a bitter edge with that mention.  His strange desire to please their leader had always left them both frustrated and unsatisfied.

 

Combeferre, wishing to take Grantaire’s mind off of the blonde hurried on to say “We don’t all have the time to peruse every corner of this place like you." 

 

"A pity then. There is a lot left for even me to discover, it would do you no harm to start." 

 

"Perhaps. For now though, you should tell me what “Adeline’s" is." 

 

"And you call yourself French." Grantaire sighed dramatically. “It’s a French bistro that sells actual French food, not the garbage Brits make and try to pass off as French cuisine." 

 

"That actually sounds perfect." Combeferre said with a smile.

 

* * *

 

 

"I don’t want to be a great wizard. I’ve had my fill of great wizards. In our group alone there’s going to be at least eight of you. The world is filled with greats. The wizarding world and the human world alike. How many of us must be forced to live up to that standard when not many people can. Salazar Slytherin was a great wizard. Voldermort was a great wizard. And yes I know, that’s taboo to say because he was a terrible person, but that’s my point isn’t it. I don’t want to be great. I would settle for just being good.  

 

I just want to be ordinary. The world needs ordinary. We often underestimate it. The normal. It’s because we’re used to it. We ignore it’s innate beauty. I for one, am content with normalcy. I find the grandiose too complex; with their plans too unrealistic for any man to follow and their dreams that pass the skies, and their fire that burns too hot.  _Oh Adeline my dear, my darling, my one true love, send another mug of firewhiskey my way won’t you?_ Now that’s a burn worth experiencing. The other burn, the burn of passion, is best left to rumpled sheets and sweaty skin. Red roses, the blood that keeps your heart pumping, fire dancing across the sky in the guise of a sunset; that’s beauty. The fire in someone’s soul that burns so bright that it can rarely be contained in one person; that’s an explosion. One is beauty and the other, madness. You can see why the latter would scare me."  

 

Grantaire’s pan bagnat was almost done and Combeferre had completely finished his salade niçoise about half an hour ago and was just listening to Grantaire talk. 

 

"You make some valid points Grantaire, but sometimes the human qualities that scare us are the ones we don’t want to see in ourselves. Dousing your own fire with water does nothing to help you. Stagnating oneself has never been the better option." 

 

Grantaire sighed as a waitress set a mug of firewhiskey on the table. She glanced at him suspiciously before walking away. 

 

Combeferre raised his brow curiously, and Grantaire shrugged. “What can I say? They know me here." With a muttered "Engorgio" the cup expanded and his drink almost doubled in size. 

 

"When Icarus flew towards the sun," Grantaire continued their conversation as if there was no interruption. “The sun wasn’t golden, it was red. The red was his hubris, his arrogance, his animalistic desire and ambition burned until he burned along with it. It wasn’t rational. Him using those waxen wings to defy the laws of nature. We shouldn’t try to reach the sky. We’re not meant to fly, we’re earthbound in nature. We’re not meant to change human biology. Some people try to be things they’re not meant to be, to do things they’re not meant to do, to do  _more_  than they’re meant to. And for what? What point do you prove?" 

 

"It does a lot of good." Combeferre interjected. “I’m not one to advocate for people to do more than they’re able, but you must do as much as you’re able. Otherwise you’re living your life at half it’s potential. Half a life. That’s no way to live." 

 

“Ignorance is bliss my dear Combeferre." 

 

"No it’s not. It’s just easier." 

 

"Yes…well…nothing’s wrong with easy. Many people would prefer an easy life to the one they currently have. No one ever complains about life being too easy." Grantaire tossed eight galleons and three sickles on the table before draining his mug and standing. “Are you ready to leave." 

 

"Yes you have distracted me for quite enough." Combeferre acquiesced.  

 

"Not by force," Grantaire replied as they left the restaurant. "With drinks and a good meal." 

 

"I wasn’t complaining." 

 

"No. You weren’t." Grantaire glanced at him curiously before shaking his head, as if to take an errant thought out of his mind. “Where to now!" 

 

"I was thinking Tomes and Scrolls for my parents and perhaps…Zonkos’ for my sister?" 

 

"You’re the boss." 

 

* * *

 

 

"Charmed By a Vampire?" Grantaire’s eyebrows were raised as Combeferre paid for the books.  

 

"My mum’s fan." Combeferre kept his face forward, but his mouth twitched upwards. 

 

"Ah so that’s why you bought two copies." Grantaire nodded seriously. “Makes sense to me." 

 

"Don’t mock me. They’re quite good actually."  

 

"Who’s mocking who?" Grantaire asked as he held open the door for his friend. “I’m a big fan of romance myself." 

 

"Are you really?" Combeferre glanced at him as they walked to the joke shop.  

 

"Does that surprise you?" 

 

"Only a little." Combeferre glimpsed at Grantaire to gauge his response. His face remained carefully blank but he couldn’t hide the sharpness in his voice as he said. “Do you think me incapable of love?"

 

Combeferre didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t. They walked in silence to the joke shop, an uncomfortable silence that threatened to break the easy companionship they had going for the entire evening. And they still said nothing as he shopped for his sister.  

 

On their way back to the school Combeferre finally answered Grantaire’s question. “I don’t think you’re incapable of love Grantaire, but I don’t think you let yourself be open to the idea of it." Grantaire opened his mouth to argue and Combeferre stopped him with a wave of his hand. “I’m not saying you don’t want it. I’m saying you don’t think you deserve it, or you think you’re not supposed to have it. Every time anyone tries to show you the tiniest bit of affection you shut down. You’re okay with showering all of your friends with adoration, but you never accept it yourself. I know part of it is because your self depreciation that you try to mask humour, but you also really don’t think you’re worth anything, or deserving of anything good. And you’re wrong. You’re-"  

 

"Please stop talking." Grantaire’s entire posture was tense and his face looked pained.  

 

"As you wish." 

 

They walked in silence, a silence less uncomfortable than the last, for a while before Grantaire spoke again. 

 

"I’m sorry." Grantaire exhaled heavily, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.  

 

"Why are you sorry?" Combeferre tilted his head to the side. “I’m the one being overly invasive. It’s a problem I have, I know. It’s just….you talk a lot but you never actually say more than you need to say about yourself.” 

 

"You’re within your rights to say what you did, and you did stop when I asked you to, so…it’s fine." Grantaire said, offering a smile. “I can’t go on getting pissed any time anyone worries about me can I?" 

 

"You’re well within _your_ right to actually." Combeferre nudged him with his shoulder seemed to deliberate for a while before taking his hand in his. “Is this okay?" 

 

Grantaire nodded beside him and squeezed his hand gently.

 

“If I were to tell you," Grantaire said after a brief pause, he sounded each word out as if they had a different meaning. “That I’m…not entirely…human…what would be your response?"

 

"I suppose I would tell you that you’re my friend regardless, and in the five years that I’ve known you, you’ve never once tried to hurt me and I don’t believe you ever will." Combeferre said carefully. “Is that the answer you were looking for?”

 

“Close enough.” Grantaire shrugged, not looking at Combeferre, but the way his entire face relaxed said what he didn’t.

 

“Okay.” Combeferre looked down and smiled.

 

* * *

 

 

“Did you know that Enjolras is half veela?” Combeferre asked dropping gracefully on the chair next to Grantaire and opening his Tranfiguration textbook.

 

After their day spent at Hogsmeade their relationship went back to what it was before. Grantaire came to meetings half drunk and either made long speeches about nothing and everything, or either sat there melancholy without saying a word. Combeferre on the other hand studied furiously, (there was a small frown on his face every single time there was an opened book in front of him, so one can only assume that he was _furious_ ) came to meetings and listened, planned and philosophized using few words and getting his point across better than most. So basically it went back to normal. Which is why Grantaire was confused to see Combeferre just casually sit next to him in the library.

 

“…Yes? I mean he’s been going off about the objectification and sexualization of veelas since I the day I met him, and he looks….well he looks the part. Why do you ask?” Grantaire’s eyes stayed glued to his Charmes notebook.

 

“Because you missed this week’s meeting.” Combeferre nodded, he looked both concerned at curious, but then again that was Combeferre’s general expression.

 

“I can see where that makes sense I guess?” Grantaire said finally looking up just in time to see Combeferre roll his eyes.

 

“We had a new member yesterday.” Combeferre said as though that cleared things up.

 

“Ah.”

 

“She's half veela.” The ‘you bloody moron’ seemed implied. “She’s half veela and she said she was interested in our organization because her foster father was a werewolf and her mother also got the bite after giving birth to her. She’s an interesting addition. When she introduced herself Marius actually fell off of his seat. Enjolras looked ready to throttle him but the girl, Cosette, she seemed to like him well enough so Enjolras got over it.”

 

“Hmmn.” Grantaire replied, and with that their conversation ended.

 

Combeferre turned his eyes back to his book. They passed the evening in silence until Grantaire closed his book suddenly and said “Do you want me to teach you to dance?”

 

“I…what?” Combeferre seemed at a loss for words.

 

“Dancing. I’m quite good at it, and judging from the last Yule Ball you are…not.” Grantaire shrugged. “Let me teach you.”

 

“Okay. Why not? What’s the worst that can happen?”

 

* * *

 

Apparently the worst was Combeferre falling twice on the Owlery floor, bruising his elbow and Grantaire silently laughing at him as he helped him up.

 

“Well I did not foresee this going so bad. If I didn’t know better I’d think I was with Lesgles.”

 

“You are not funny” Combeferre glared.

 

“I'm hilarious.”  Grantaire steadied Combeferre by putting his hand on his waist when they’re interrupted by Peeves zooming through the room and in his song songy voice saying:

 

_Grantaire tries to share_  
 _His talent with Combeferre_  
 _But for a trip we must prepare_  
 _Where on the floor_  
 _His bum will meet_  
 _It’s next romantic affair_

Which causes Grantaire to laugh even harder, “Okay I take it back. _That_ bloke is hilariouis.”

 

Combeferre rested his hands on Grantaire’s shoulders “Just show me how it goes again.”

 

And so they danced. Grantaire was the more skilled of the pair but he went slow, showing Combeferre which foot went first and the proper placement of his arms. In the company of each other time seemed to both speed up and slow down because before they knew it the sky was dark and they were still silently holding each other, although it was now less of a waltz and more of a sway.

 

“Why didn’t you ask me what I was?” Grantaire asked so quietly that he almost didn’t hear it. When he didn’t respond Grantaire prodded. “I mean I basically told you that I was a mon-that I wasn’t human and your response was basically ‘huh that’s cool.’ Didn’t you want to know?”

 

“I assumed you would tell me when you were ready.” Combeferre eventually replied. “Enjolras is part veela; Jehan’s mother is some sort of wood nymph and I’m pretty sure Courfeyrac is an imp in hiding. We’ll never judge you for whatever you, we're more interested in who you are, so it’s just up to when you’re ready.”

 

“I got the bite when I was fourteen.” Grantaire grumbled, which also seemed to coincide with when being drunk became his state of being. “Headmaster Mabeuff and Jehan are the only ones who know okay, so just keep it quiet.”

 

“How do you-“

 

“The school has a huge basement for “special” cases like me.” Grantaire whispered, his face was pretty much buried in Combeferre’s neck at this point. “Jehan generally sits with me through the pain, but he has to leave before I change because…well you know.”

 

Combeferre’s mind started to race; with all his knowledge of werewolves, and all his knowledge of Grantaire. It was strange that he’d never combined the two before. Grantaire was sick around every full moon but everyone always just assumed he was hungover. He was missing every full moon, but Grantaire was a wanderer, he always had been. He also had all the werewolf traits. He was strong, fast, and overly athletic, he had the bleak outlook on life that most people associated with PTSD as opposed to nature, but still it was there. The fact that he didn’t notice before was both mind boggling and understandable.

 

Combeferre nodded. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell your secret.”

 

“’S no problem.” Grantaire shrugged, his voice muffled.

 

“Do you mind if I come sit with you this full moon too?”

 

Grantaire pulled away from him and kissed him on the nose. “Thank you.”

 

Combeferre did one even better and kissed him back. Grantaire seemed surprised at first. He stiffened for a moment before returning the kiss, his hand grasping gently at Combeferre’s waist and his other hand fisted tight at his side. Combeferre, as per usual, was freer with his affections. His hands were wrapped around Grantaire’s neck as he kissed him wholeheartedly.

 

They both pulled away breathless, Grantaire searched Combeferre’s face, and whatever he saw left him frowning.

 

“Do you remember what I said about Icarus flying towards the sun?”

 

“Of course,” Combeferre replied, his smile turning hesitant.

 

 

“I was right.” Grantaire nodded carefully. “We’re earthbound in nature. This felt too much like flying.”

 

  
“Nothing’s wrong with the earth,” Combeferre replied smiling sadly. “But you mistake flying for happiness. There’s joy to be found both on the ground and in the sky Grantaire, it would do you well to remember that.”

 

Combeferre stepped out of his arms and kissed him on the cheek and whispered “I’ll see you on Sunday.” before leaving.

 

Grantaire looked at his retreating shadow and sighed.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't dance. At all. Just clearing that up to begin with.
> 
> My headcanon Combeferre is Luke Pasqualino with glasses and my headcanon Grantaire is Nathan Stewart-Jarrett and they will be for the rest of this challenge. 
> 
> I'm not exactly sure if I'll be doing it in order. Time will tell.
> 
>  
> 
> [Challenge on Infinite Earths](http://mizaerable.tumblr.com/post/37318772896/challenge-on-infinite-earths-is-a-30-day)
> 
>  
> 
> If you have any questions please feel free to ask. Comments and constructive criticism are both greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading.


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